


Second, Third, and Fourth Arrows

by kijikun



Series: A Quiver of Arrows [2]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Explicit Language, F/M, Season/Series 02, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-13 05:43:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kijikun/pseuds/kijikun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl wonders how long she'll play this game. He wonders how long he'll let her play this game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Second and Third Arrows

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: metaallu

Daryl’s reading the book Andrea gave him, trying not to feel useless and pathetic from enforced rest, when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. He glances up to see Andrea’s familiar form coming towards his tent.

Daryl starts to wonder just how many arrows Andrea’s got stashed away when she approaches him with a third. He can’t see the arrow yet, but the way she’s making her way over to him with one hand tucked behind her back he figures she’s got another arrow. Either that or it’s her gun and she’s fixing to finish what she started.

Yeah, that’s a little unfair, but so is he.

She’d dangled the second arrow in front of him like he was some sort of trained animal before he’d headed into the wood on that damn horse. She’d wanted to know how old he was first time he hunted and killed something. Damned if he knew why. He’d told her, it was easy enough answer after all. He even told her what he’d killed for free. He’d been seven and it’d been a rabbit.

“I had a pet bunny when I was little,” she told him when she handed over the arrow.

He’d almost caught her wrist and told her the full of it. That he hadn’t been allowed to come home unless he’d brought food. How it had the softest fur and he’d cried without really knowing why.

He didn’t tell her any of that though. He’d let her go and he’d cursed himself for wanting to tell her shit to begin with. Like some stuck up city girl lawyer would understand.

Watching her walk towards him with purpose in her step, the sun just behind her making her hair look almost white, he thinks maybe he should have told her. Maybe she would have sat beside him by the fire and maybe…

He snorts at himself. Yeah, maybe nothing. She’s a pretty damn thing, yeah, but he don’t need to be thinking about any girl that way right now. Certainly not Miss Lawyer. Besides she had Shane to keep her warm, now didn’t she?

Andrea comes to a stop in front of his open tent door. “Can I come in?”

He gives her a half-shrug where he lays. “If I say no will you leave me in peace?” he asks squinting at her.

She scowls but before she opens her mouth he chuckles.

“I know you got ‘nother arrow behind your back,” he tells her. “Get in here and ask your damn question.”

Andrea climbs into the tent and sits herself down by his hip, laying the arrow across her lap. “How’d you know I had an arrow?”

He shrugs again. “Way you held yourself and you had that look in your eye,” he tells her.  
She smells like laundry soap and he wonders if she mostly came out here to escape Lori.

“What look in my eye?” she asks, sounding curious. She shifts as if making herself for comfortable and her legs brush against his hip.

The brief contact through his clothing makes him feel trapped in the realization that he’s got a pretty girl alone in what amounts to his room for the first time in his life.

 _Bet you don’t even know what to do with her_ , Merle taunts from the back of his mind.

Daryl swallows harder than he needs to. “Like you’re up to something.” He eyes her. “You up to something, girl?”

Andrea laughs and shakes her head. “No I just…” She looks at the arrow in her lap and then at the bandage on his head. “Arrow for an answer, right?”

He nods despite the fact he’s not sure if he wants to be playing this game with her. She used to play games for a living, didn’t she? And he’s not sure he wants the complications of playing her games.

Her lips thin into a little frown. “What will it take to make things right between us?”

Daryl frowns right back at her. “I told you we were good, girl. You did nothing wrong but have shit aim,” he tells her sharply. Have the others been piling guilt onto her? He’s pretty sure none of them, except maybe Glenn - though fuck knows why- , really gives a shit about him. But he knows he’s their big source of food and that’s enough to get someone like Lori pissy at Andrea.

“If I’d seen what you did? Would have taken the shot too.”

Only he would have hit his mark.

Suddenly, all he can think of is him taking that shot and realizing a heart beat too late that it was Andrea. He can see her laying like a broken doll in the field her straw colored hair matted with blood. The vision is so vivid and it feels like a kick to the chest.

 _Aww, does little Daryl have a crush?_ Merle’s voice is all mocking.

Andrea looks down at the arrow in her lap seemingly unaware of his inner conflict. “There has to be something,” she says softly, then touches his arm.

He freezes up, staring at her hand on his skin. He wants to bolt, to shake her off, but he feels nailed to the ground.

 _C’mon, little brother, this is your big chance. Might be the only way she’ll let you fuck her. Bet her cunt is tight. Bet she’s never had a real man,_ Merle leers.

“Daryl?” Andrea asks looking up at his face, their eyes meeting.

“You can blow me,” he says spurned on by panic and his brother’s voice in the back of his head.

Andrea rears back, eyes wide. “What?”

Daryl knows he should laugh. Should laugh like it’s a joke. Instead he gestures towards his crotch. “You heard me, girl,” he tells her cruelly.

She gets up so fast he gets whiplash just looking at her. The arrow falls to the floor of the tent.

“How dare you!” she hisses and storms to the entrance of the tent. Andrea looks back at him, and to his surprise her eyes look wet and she looks more hurt than angry. “I’m not a whore.”

There’s something about the way her voice splinters that makes him feel like shit. He wants to get up, to catch her, and tell her he’s sorry. He doesn’t though.

Andrea blinks hard. “I’m not a whore,” she repeats then leaves the tent.

“I know,” he says softly to her retreating back. “Fuck!”

He throws the book across the tent and covers his eyes with his arm. “You’re a fucking moron, Dixon,” he tells himself.

In his head he can hear Merle laugh at him.


	2. Fourth Arrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl wonders how long she'll play this game. He wonders how long he'll let her play this game.

Sophia is gone. Dead.

Been gone and dead.

Daryl paces in front of his tent, chewing on his nails. He knows he’s acting out and he can hear Merle mocking him, can hear his father laughing in his drunken way saying Daryl’s acting more like an animal that a man. He knows if he sits down, if he slows down, he’ll do something he’ll regret.

‘Cause he can’t stop thinking about Sophia coming out of the brain. How long had she been in there? Was she still…alive…when she was put in there? Had she cried?

He can’t even look at Carol now, knowing how badly he failed. How he fucked up when it matter most. Knowing that while he was out in the wood on that damn horse Sophia could already of been…

“Daryl?”

He wheels around, furious someone’s dared intrude on his solitude. “What?” he half-growls, half-yells.

Andrea is standing mere inches away and while she flinches, she holds her ground. “I thought…” she starts.

Daryl turns away sharply. He doesn’t want to look at her and after what he said to her last time she approached him alone he’s surprised she wants to be near him.

But more than anything he doesn’t want to hear her tell him how he failed them. He can’t imagine her coming to his tent for any other reason. “Don’t want to hear it,” he snaps at her. “Now, get. I’m sure you’ve better things to do with your time, girl.”

Andrea surprises him — she does that a lot in recent days — by stepping back into his line of sight. She pulls something out of the bag across her shoulders and hands it to him.

He takes it almost automatically and finds himself holding a somewhat smashed but still intact snickers bar. “What’s this for?” he asks suspiciously.

“You did more for that little girl than anyone,” Andrea says quietly. “You risked more than anyone. The way it turned out…that doesn’t lessen what you did, Daryl.”

Daryl keeps his eyes fixed on the candy bar in his hand. “So you give me candy? You should be givin’ this to Carol.”

“I want to give it to you. I was saving it for…” her voice trails off for a moment. “I want you to have it.”

 _Amy,_ he thinks, _she was saving this for Amy._

 _Aww, ain’t that sweet, she givin’ you candy like you're a girl,_ Merle taunts.

Daryl ignores his brother’s voice. ” ‘ppreciate it.”

“Got something else,” Andrea says after a long moment where he half expects her to head back to the farm house.

He glances up to see her pulling an arrow from her bag. He frowns slightly. After last time, why would she even…

“You didn’t like my last answer too good,” he reminds her. _I don’t think you're a whore_ , he wants to tell her, but he won’t, he never will.

Andrea’s lips tug up at the corner. “I kinda deserved it,” she tells him in a way that makes him itch to punch Shane. ”Anyways, I don’t want an answer. I want you to let me do something.”

“What?” he asks, eying her suspiciously.

“Let me hug you,” she says. She tilts her head to one side then the other like a squirrel judging if it can make a jump.

He scowls at her. “Why, the hell you wanna do that?”

Andrea puts a hand on her hip. “You want the arrow or not?”

He’s going to tell her no. He’s going to tell her he’s done with this stupid game and either she hand over all the arrows or he’ll ransack her tent.

“Alright, get it over with,” he grumbles, steeling himself against the contact to come.

Andrea doesn’t just fling her arms around him. She careful slides them around him, like he’s a frightened animal she doesn’t want to spook. He’s not sure he likes that comparison even in his own head, but he lets her wrap her arms around around him. He let’s her press her face against his neck.

He stands unmoving, until his fingers start to twitch. Awkwardly, he puts a hand on her lower back. She squeezes him gently.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

Daryl wants to demand, _what the hell for_ , when his throat closes up and he finds himself closer to tears then he has in…in…

He fights them back, his hand clenching in her shirt in effort.

He doesn’t cry. He hasn’t in so long he’s not sure he’d properly remember how.

But Daryl’s neck is wet.

Andrea’s crying.

Daryl doesn’t know what to do with that. So he stands there with her, while something untwists in his chest, leaving him more able to breath, to think. His hand loosens on her shirt and relaxes on her back.

When Andrea pulls away, steps back from him, her eyes are dry, but slightly red. “See you at dinner?” she asks softly, pressing the arrow into his free hand.

He nods mutely.

Andrea smiles, just a little, and nods back.

Daryl watches her walk back towards the house, her hips swinging just a little. He remembers how thin she felt.

Tomorrow, he decides as he stores the arrow and candy bar away, he’ll get up before the sun and see if he can’t track down something bigger than a squirrel.


End file.
